


At least he said goodbye

by AlexGlass



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Gen, andreil is referenced but that's it, this is just me putting both parts from my tumblr in one place
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2018-11-28 05:29:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11411217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexGlass/pseuds/AlexGlass
Summary: Neil dies in Baltimore, but leaves behind letters for the foxes.





	1. Letters

Here’s a list of reasons why Andrew is considering death-by-FBI-agent-who-won’t-shut-up:

  1. Neil is dead.
  2. Neil obviously knew he was going to die, since he made sure to break his contract with Andrew.
  3. He didn’t catch the strain in Neil’s voice when he said “You were amazing” until later, when it was too late.
  4. Now that it’s too late, he can’t  _stop_ hearing it. That little waver, like it meant more than it was saying, which now he knows it  _was_ but he was too fucking  _dense_ to realize it.
  5. Even after the disappearance, even after hours of  _nothing_ and then the FBI call and Kevin’s stupid confession and stupid throat (which he fully intends to come back to crushing later), Neil was alive.
  6. But not long enough for them to reach the hospital.



And now here they are, in the hospital lobby, being talked down to by an idiot in a suit trying to make excuses for why the FBI needs his body.

“He is  _ours_ ,” Dan growls. Actually growls. “You said his father is dead now, and his mother’s been dead for years, so that means we’re his closest family.”

But all Agent Dick does is raise an eyebrow. “How do you know that Mary Wesninski is dead?” It has the clearly desired effect of shutting Dan up. There are a thousand innocent answers to that question, but they’re Foxes. Nobody ever gives them the benefit of the doubt.

“We need to conduct a full autopsy, get a clearer picture of what was done to him. We’ll hand him over to you post-cremation.”

Matt shakes his head. “Not good enough.”

“You all need to get this into your heads: Neil Josten isn’t real and never was. He was a halfway decent cover that, honestly, probably would’ve been passable if he hadn’t thrown caution to the wind time and again over the past year. He was playing a part, and now he’s dead, and those are the facts.”

Andrew is aware that they’re talking about a corpse, but that complete disregard for who Neil was makes him want to rip out the man’s throat. Anger colors his vision red, but it’s better this way. Because as soon as the red leaves, the gray will settle in, and it will never, ever go away.

“Here’s another fact,” Agent Dick continues. “People don’t spend months in close company of others without letting something slip. So I’m going to need all of you to come in and te—” 

“That’s enough, Agent Browning,” a new voice calls to them. A second later, a woman appears next to the agent, towering over him by a good half a foot. “Say another word to them and I’ll personally make sure that anything they say becomes inadmissible in court.” She turns to the Foxes. “Hi, sorry, I’m Ms. Waters. I was — still is, technically — Nathaniel’s lawyer.”

Kevin’s face goes ashy, likely imagining the worst. “He was here for six hours before dying. Why the hell would he need a lawyer?”

Ms. Waters pulls out several small white envelopes by way of response. “Because he didn’t trust Agent Chucklehead over hear to not open these before you recieved them.” She hands each Fox their own envelope, with their name written on the front in Neil’s familiar scrawl. Wymack doesn’t get an envelope.

It makes Andrew’s chest ache and his heart boil, and he doesn’t trust himself to speak. He knows what’s inside that letter: a sequel and an epilogue. All of Neil’s bullshit sap wrapped in a promise that he’ll never have it again. He doesn’t even know wether he wants to read it or tear it into a million pieces. Probably both.

“—two requests,” it takes Andrew a second to register that Ms. Waters is talking again. “That you read your letters in private, and that you destroy them after reading. Preferably with fire.” She smiles at their confused stares and nods at Agent Dick. “Browning here is a man of many words, but he spends very few eandearing himself to others. Nathaniel was likely afraid that he would try to read them.

“In any case, I’ll be in touch soon. Nathaniel left a great deal behind, and while the FBI can scramble over his past, it’s my job to sort out his present, and that means you.” She gives Wymack a teal business card. “In case you need me urgently, in the case I don’t contact you first. Now run along, you were all injured and in need of rest.”

* * *

 

The bus ride back to Palmetto is silent, but nobody is asleep. Like Andrew, they all sit on their individual benches, staring at their letters, trying to decide wether they wan’t to know or not. Is it an explanation? Apology? Questions too big for the heart to ask or recieve an answer to.

In the end, it’s Nicky who breaks the silence. “I know he said to read them alone, but… anybody want to open their’s with me? I just. I can’t. Not alone. Not on this.”

There’s silence again, but then Renee comes to sit next to Nicky, and then Allison, and the next thing he knows he, Kevin, and Aaron are the only ones not crowded together in a massive group hug. There’s sniffling, then a countdown from three, and the sound of several envelopes tearing and pages unfolding. And then silence again.

And then.

_And then._

Dan’s been captain of the Foxes for years, but Andrew doesn’t think he’s ever heard her yell that loudly as her  _ARE YOU SHITTING ME_ vibrates throughout the bus. The rest of the Foxes are quick to follow with their own sounds of anger and disbelief.

It’s when Nicky starts laughing hysterically that Andrew finally succumbs to his curiousity and opens the letter, skimming over the words.

_Andrew is going to fucking kill that boy when he gets his hands on him._

 

 


	2. Pictures

It’s Andrew’s last day at the Foxhole Court, and he’s standing alone in the lounge, staring at the pictures hung up on the wall. There’s no real order, but look at it long enough and a timeline of sorts materializes.

Andrew was never one for sappy photos, but he can still draw his own story through the pictures in front of him. A newspaper clipping from the first game the foxes won his freshman year. Some candids Allison took when he wasn’t looking and refused to take down. Articles about Kevin coming to Palmetto. 

Neil.

Neil in his signature faded clothes. Screenshots from the interview with Kathy. Halloween at Eden’s. Neil and Matt and Dan, grinning into the camera. Neil and Andrew, at the airport, bundled up like arctic explorers and standing a hair’s breadth apart as Neil gave Andrew his name.

And then a copy of Neil’s file, taped onto the wall without alteration. Neil Josten, age 19, five foot two, starting striker.

The FBI argued—still argues, really—that not a word of that file is true. That Neil Josten was a lie from top to bottom, and they’re fools for mourning someone who just used them to hide. Andrew was never a fan of authority, but the notion that he should put his faith in such idiots makes his blood boil. 

The wall continues, of course. Neil was hardly the first Fox to bite the dust before their time, and the wall didn’t stop for any of them, either.

There’s the customary end of year photo, but none of the smiles are genuine. The fact of Neil’s absence hit them all harder than they expected. There’s no picture from Neil’s funeral. God, they got  _so_ drunk that night.

Photos of next year’s freshmen. Young and hostile and wary of any place willing to accept people like themselves.

There’s postcards. One from Chad, that Renee sent. A couple from Taiwan, courtesy of Allison. And a few from around Europe, but there’s no name attached to those.

There’s the one photo Andrew took part in willingly: Dan’s arm stretching to fit everyone in the picture, all of them wearing sunglasses and holding up a peace sign as Tetsuji Moriyama is shoved into a police car on the TV behind them. It was Andrew’s fourth year, and the Ravens finally made their mistake and signed on someone who wouldn’t drink the kool-aid. A whistle was blown, an investigation was opened, and for the first time ever the Ravens didn’t make it to the championship, because they were banned from playing altogether. It’s been almost two years, and their reputation still hasn’t recovered. 

There’s the photo Matt sent from his spring break in Rio de Janeiro the year before. It’s Matt, Dan, and a man they met at the beach, grinning into the camera. 

There’s Kevin and Jeremy Knox, doing ridiculous poses half an hour before the Foxes and the Trojans faced off for the third championship round in two years.

There’s Wymack’s and Abbey’s wedding, and every Fox that could make the trip is standing in front of a five-tier wedding cake that Wymack later muttered they never bought or paid for.

There’s a picture from less than 48 hours ago. Andrew and Aaron giving each other their diplomas, because Chuck Whittier got them confused during the ceremony.

His phone chimes as a reminder goes off, and he walks out and locks the door behind him. His keychain his heavier nowadays. There’s the key to the car, to the house in columbia, the stadium keys that Wymack refused to take back. There’s the key for his new apartment in Langley, Virginia, so he can be closer to his upcoming job. Plus a few other keys that weren’t useful for long, but can’t bring himself to let go of just yet.

Andrew has a life. Others would (and often do) call it a great life, but Andrew doesn’t see the general appeal. But he learned a long time ago that weighing the bad against the good does nothing. You hold on to what matters, and you never let go, and you just have to handle the rest.

Andrew once thought he was holding on, but then it slipped from his grasp, and now he’s alone again, chasing after it.

One day, he’ll catch up. But until then, the chase is interesting too.


End file.
